Bent like a crooked hook, my old body falls apart
The grocery bags are scratching the ground
Arms weakened by muscle-mass loss abound
Lady walking ahead has a bargearse fart
From too tight pants that value a butt-crack
Short legged with tattoos ending higher forever
A pigeon walks like a distinguished drunken hack
Comes man in black — lorikeet on shoulder
A bird that constantly speaks its mind
In birdsong full of expletives and horrendous puns
The bread shop smells of hot butter buns
A dry-cleaner effluxes trichloroethylene in kind
Temperature is strangely balmy in this dream
At the best corner for best of average planets
Twenty-one degrees in this shady city of Ganetz
Two roads cross and split like a rainbow beam
Into gentle slopes of old crumbling homes